


White Trashin' (With You)

by stickylips14



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Summer Romance, Swearing, Underage Drinking, two boys fallin in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickylips14/pseuds/stickylips14
Summary: Shiro is a small-town football star with big plans for his future. Keith is a destined-to-be high school dropout and a local delinquent.This is the story of a Texas summer where none of these things change, but other things do.





	White Trashin' (With You)

**Author's Note:**

> i have literally never been to texas in my life. also i guess there are some slightly yikes-worthy words used in this, but nothing like. major? idk.

The sound of the beer bottle smashing on the concrete cracked like the sound of a warning shot, the contents of the bottle- which might be beer but could just as easily be piss- splatter across the shoes of the guy who had been the target of the assault. There was a stretched out second of silence, and then:

“You’re fucking  **_dead_ ** , Kogane.”

“ _ Heh. _ My bad.” Keith grins, toothy and feigning innocence before he counts off in his head the odds of one against five. No dice. He doesn’t even bother with a snark, he just turns tail and books it out onto the pavement, swinging around the corner to the sounds of the guys yelling after him that they were going to kick his ass. He believes them, but generally speaking he was a little quicker on his feet than damn near anyone else in this shitty town. He flies past the decrepit  _ Blockbuster _ building and cuts across the street without looking, waving his hands in apology to the woman who nearly clips him with her car. He hops the curb and hooks a left, too concerned about getting some distance on the mob of pissy teens to notice that he isn’t alone on the street until he smacks right into the back of the guy.

“Fuck-!” Keith yelps, jumping back as the guy turns around to face him, his eyebrows shot up in surprise, his thumb still hovering over the keys of his phone. Guess he’d stopped to text like a fuckin’ grandma. “Shit. Sorry, man.”

“Oh- no, it’s okay. You should watch where you’re going.” The guy smiles, lopsided and genuine. Keith clears his throat and rubs at the back of his head, shoving his hair up a little to get some relief from the heat.

“Yeah, I will next time.” Keith agrees, and then he squints up at the guy. He seems familiar, with his undercut and broad shoulders. “Oh. You’re Takashi, right? You play football.”

“Yeah.” He gives a short nod. “I prefer Shiro though. You’re-- Keith, right? I’ve seen you around school.”

“Uh-huh,” Keith replies a little absently, glancing over his shoulder as he recalls why exactly he was running fast enough not to see Shiro coming. Those guys can’t be far behind him. “Hey, uh, you’re pretty fast right?”

“Fast?” Shiro frowns, looking past Keith to try and track down what’s caught his attention. “I guess.”

“Okay, great. ‘Cause we gotta run.”

“Wha-?”

“They’re gonna think you’re with me!” Keith laughs, the flash of Lotor’s bleached-to-Hell hair catching in the light as he crosses the street. Times up. Keith grabs Shiro’s wrist and runs, dragging him along for a few paces until he gets the gist and keeps up. It’s hot as fuck with the Texas sun baking their backs as they run for blocks, darting around corners at random to try and lose track of Lotor and his meathead friends. Keith’s legs are fucking burning from the strain and his throat is dry, so he’s relieved when he gets the chance to turn a run to a jog and then a jog to a meander as he approaches a high fence, the wood bleached silver by the year-round sun.

“Are we good here?” Shiro asks, panting and shoving his bangs back from his forehead, shiny with sweat. 

“Not quite. Gotta jump the fence. Gimme a boost?”

“Then what? I can’t jump that high I don’t think.” Shiro says as he glances up to the top of the fence, assessing the height.

“It’s okay, I’ll pull you up.” Keith waves off his concern and when he’s met with a flat expression he rolls his eyes. “I’m stronger than I look. Get over here.”

Shiro sighs in resignation and wanders up the slope, crouching down and weaving his fingers together to make a stirrup. Keith beams at him, bracing himself on Shiro’s shoulder before stepping into the offered hand. Shiro pushes him up on a three count, and Keith easily springs up, catching the top of the fence and hauling himself over. He vanishes for a moment, before popping back over the top and offering his hand down. Shiro flashes a look of doubt once more before taking the offered hand, and Keith keeps his word. He helps him with the jump, dragging him over the top of the fence as he drops down into the long grass on the other side. It’s dry and scratches at his skin through the holes in his jeans.

They get about a three second reprieve before they hear a screen door bang open and a furiously grumpy old man steps out onto his back porch, yelling at Keith by name to get the fuck out of his backyard.

They run again, hopping the chainlink fence on the other side of the property.

“Okay.” Keith says around his pants, trying to catch his breath. He doubles over, resting his hands on his knees. “I think we’re good. I need a fuckin’ drink.”

“Well, I live around here.” Shiro offers up, just as out of breath as he leans back against the sagging chain link fence. “C’mon.”

They walk this time, Keith trying hard to keep his hair from touching his neck or face but it’s a hopeless endeavour. 

Shiro’s house is pretty average for the area; two storeys, the paint peeling a little and the grass patchy, but it’s nice. He shuffles Keith inside and Keith wriggles his feet out of his knock-off converses, leaving them in the entranceway. He follows Shiro through to the kitchen, the carpet worn under his feet and the walls heavy with family photos. 

“Catch,” Shiro says from around the fridge door, and on reflex Keith catches the can of coke he tosses at him, turning it over in his hands to cool them down before he cracks it open, leaning back against the counter as he takes a noisy gulp. 

“Thanks,” He says once he’s feeling less like his throat is made of sandpaper, wiping his mouth with the inside of his wrist. The can’s half empty.

“No problem.” Shiro shrugs, smiling against the rim of his own can. “Wanna hang out in my room?”

“Sure.” Keith shrugs right back, and trails after him again as they head upstairs.

Shiro’s room is kinda exactly what Keith expected. Classic jock, with his litter of awards displayed up on the walls and shelves among comic books and an eclectic selection of novels. An old, boxy TV sits on his dresser angled to face the bed, a play station 2 sitting on top of it with its controllers. Shiro leans back against his desk, watching Keith take everything in.

“Christ, you play a lot of sports. These aren’t all for football. Boxing, lacrosse…”

“I just play football now. Most of those are from when I lived in California.” 

“You’re from Cali? And you moved  _ here? _ ” Keith snorts, shaking his head as he picks out a comic book to thumb through. Superhero stuff. “You’re nuts.”

“I didn’t get much of a say,” Shiro admits with a laugh, and Keith bites the inside of his cheek and wonders if he’s hit a soft spot. He slides the comic book back into its place and finishes his coke.

“So… What did you do to get Lotor on your ass? I hear he’s pretty ruthless.” Shiro asks after a slice of silence. Keith looks up from going through Shiro’s collection of video games, his smile lopsided.

“Who, Lottie? Nah, it’s fine.” Keith snorts, “just some good old sibling rivalry.”

“ _ Siblings? _ ” Shiro damn near chokes on his drink. He feels it fizz up in his nose and tries to wriggle the feeling away. Keith bites back his laugh as he watches.

“Well, not actually. We’re cousins.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Eh, it’s only by blood.” Keith grins, before waving the case for  _ Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas _ at him. “Mind if I play for a while?”

And that’s the start. They kill the rest of the afternoon typing in every single cheat code they can find for  _ Grand Theft _ , and when Keith proves to be fucking hopeless at getting away from the cops, Shiro fights him for the controller and shows him how it's done. All the while they shit-talk  the kids they go to school with, Lotor and his goons, the guys on Shiro’s football team. Keith doesn’t even  _ consider _ going home until it’s starting to get dark out, the heat starting to lift away, as much as it can in a brutal Texas summer. When he does leave, it’s with a punch to Shiro’s shoulder and a casual promise to come hang out again.

-

Keith shows up a couple of days later in the late afternoon, a backpack hanging heavy from his shoulder as he wiggles a lollipop stick between his teeth, waiting for Shiro to come to the door. They grin at each other through the screen door, and Keith leaves his ratty sneakers in the entrance way again. He catches Shiro by the wrist, dragging him up to his room. As they pass the lounge, he catches a glimpse of who he can only assume is Shiro’s mother, but she doesn’t seem terribly interested in either of them.

Keith drops his bag on Shiro’s bed with a groan, rolling his shoulder a few times to shake out the stiffness.

“What the hell have you got in there, bricks?” Shiro asks, giving the strap a cursory tug. Keith flops down onto the bed, turning onto his side so he can tug the zip open, revealing a pretty solid bounty of beer cans. He meets Shiro’s gaze, not sure if he’ll be met with disapproval or not. Shiro considers the cans for a moment, then laughs and shakes his head. “Where’d you get this from?”

“Dad’s stash. It’s fine, he won’t notice.” Keith shrugs, rolling over onto his back and folding his arms behind his head. He closes his eyes, only to crack them open again enough to look Shiro over in his grey wife-beater and sweats. He’s got killer arms and shoulders and Keith doesn’t feel as bad as he probably should for staring. He feels the bed sag under Shiro’s weight as he sits, and he closes his eyes properly again, stretching out across the sheets. He crunches down on the lollipop that’s been stewing against the inside of his cheek. 

They wait until it’s dark out and Shiro’s parents are in bed before they climb out onto the roof with the beer, creeping along the studs to find just the right spot to stargaze. The metal roof is still hot as hell from the sun, so Keith sits on his flannel to alleviate it a little. Shiro doesn’t seem too bothered, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands.

The beer is warm and tastes like piss, but they still crack them open and drink casually, both of them nearly through a can each before they feel a need to say anything.

“Hey, are you from here originally?” Shiro asks as he stares up at the sliver of moon above them, tapping one finger against the can in his hand.

“Yeah, born and raised.” Keith says against the rim of his drink, glancing over at Shiro and ending up staring, following the line of his throat, his adam’s apple. “Why? Cause I’m Asian? My mum’s Japanese.”

“Oh, no. It’s just, you don’t have much of an accent.” Shiro looks over at Keith, meeting his stare head on and neither of them waver on it. He tips his head to one side and his bangs fall into his eyes. “You know, that good ol’ Texas drawl.”

Keith laughs, rolling his eyes at Shiro and reaching to push his head aside so they’re no longer eye-to-eye and Shiro laughs with him, batting his hand away before he takes a long pull of his beer. “I dunno, guess I’m just lucky like that.”

“Mm. You don’t like that you’re from here?” Shiro asks and if Keith was the squirming kind he would squirm at how easily Shiro managed to hit the nail on the head. Instead he polishes off his beer and crushes the can against his thigh.

“What’s there to like? This place is a hole.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Shiro sighs, taking Keith’s empty to toss it in the bag and hand him another. Keith turns the beer over in his hands rather than opening it, staring out across the neighbourhood. 

“Why’d you move here, then?”

Shiro’s quiet for a while, drawing his legs up. “Mum and dad wanted a ‘quieter’ way of life. I mean, I don’t really mind. Once I finish high school I can move away, but it sucked to leave my friends behind.”

“Right.” Keith nods, mostly to himself and then he lifts his head and grins at Shiro, raising the beer can like he’s presenting it to him. “Shotgun this with me?”

Shiro laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure thing, cowboy.”

“Shut up.” Keith scoffs before he leans across Shiro’s lap to get to his bag, digging through the side pockets until he finds his penknife. “Done this before?”

“I’m on the football team. ‘Course I have.” Shiro laughs again and Keith nudges his shoulder into his chest as he sits up again. He settles in close to Shiro, twisted around so they’re thigh to thigh as he works a hole into the side of the can, bringing it up to his lips quick as the awful, warm beer floods into his mouth. He scrunches his nose up, and then pulls the can away from his mouth to immediately press it to Shiro’s. Shiro lets him hold it for him, tipping his head back slightly as they get to the end of the can and then he’s waving his hand to get Keith to back off with it. Shiro wipes his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with a laugh that doesn’t quite make it past his teeth. “This beer is awful.”

“Yeah, but it’s free and it’ll get you wasted.” Keith says as he crushes the can, bracing himself on Shiro’s shoulder as he gets up onto his feet, only a little wobbly at first, and then he pitches the can out into the dark. The sound of it hitting the road is faint but unmistakable. 

“You’ve got a pretty good arm.” Shiro notes as he helps Keith to sit back down without going ass up and falling off the roof. He keeps his arm slung around Keith’s shoulder once he’s situated and Keith leans back into the gesture, forcing Shiro to hold his weight or let him lie back. He holds his weight.

“I ain’t joining a sports team.”

“I wasn’t gonna push it.” Shiro swears, and then he lets his arm slack so that Keith falls back, though he stops it from being a hard impact. Shiro follows after, lying down on his side so that they’re pressed together, his chest along Keith’s ribcage and his arm still hooked under him, resting against the back of his neck. “I was just paying you a compliment.”

“You flirting, Takashi?” Keith asks with a laugh, while telling himself the heat in his cheeks is the beer and not the proximity. He thinks, vaguely, on all that drivel he’s seen on TV about summer love and shit. Not that this was love- but it was definitely a fast found attraction. But who isn’t attracted to a football star?

“Who knows.” Shiro replies, definitely flirting. Keith snorts, looking past Shiro at the collection of stars above them. They’re the second best view. “I enjoyed running with you the other day, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It broke the monotony of my day, you crashing into me like that.” Shiro says, his voice turned low and private. Keith looks back at him, finding him closer than before. He licks his lips quickly, reaching his hand up to brush his knuckles over Shiro’s palm.

“Pretty sure I’m still crashing.” He murmurs back, and Shiro closes his fingers over Keith’s as he leans down to kiss him. He tastes of shitty beer and the bagel bites they had scarfed down earlier and it’s fucking  _ awesome _ to kiss Shiro, Keith decides, as he tries to make his free hand useful, wanting to touch, but finding that he’s pinned down a little. So he just kisses Shiro back, semi-chaste smooches turning into open-mouthed tongue-and-teeth exchanges that makes it hard to breathe. Shiro’s knee slides over him, pressing up between Keith’s thighs and Keith feels dizzy from how quickly his blood drains downwards from his brain. Shiro’s free hand brushes down the length of his chest and belly, finally settling on the sharp angle of his hip.

“We should-” Keith pants into Shiro’s mouth, only half dedicated to what he’s saying because it’s cutting into these killer kisses, “go back to your room-”

“Yeah,” Shiro breathes into Keith’s mouth.

It’s a rushed experience, getting down from the roof and back into Shiro’s room without slipping and breaking their necks but also not losing too much time. Keith throws his bag in through the window ahead of them before he tumbles into Shiro’s room, with Shiro right behind him, scooping Keith off his feet and throwing him over his shoulder for the brief moment it takes to cross the room to his bed, where he drops Keith and dives down after him. 

“You gotta get your shirt off.” Keith demands as he nips and kisses his way along Shiro’s jawline, his hands already shoved up the back of Shiro’s shirt, and it doesn’t take long for his order to be followed, the flimsy bit of cotton there one moment and then gone the next. Shiro is fucking built and Keith shouldn’t be surprised at all but he still has to stop and just fucking  _ drool _ as he drags his hands down Shiro’s chest and his stomach, the skin taut over solid muscle. The trail of hair running under his belly button is coarse in comparison to his skin.

“Better not come in your pants there, cowboy.” Shiro teases and Keith splutters and shoves his hand into Shiro’s face. Shiro easily ignores the shove, ducking in to kiss Keith again. “You need to lose the shirt, too.”

Keith easily obliges, wriggling out of his t-shirt and throwing it aside. Shiro pulls back enough to get a look at him, taking his time to track his eyes down Keith’s lanky, wiry build before his mouth follows suit until Keith is squirming and hungry for his mouth again. He grabs Shiro’s shoulders and hauls him back up, mashing their mouths together. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of Shiro’s sweats, noting that there doesn’t seem to be anything else under them.  _ Awesome _ . He yanks them down past Shiro’s hips, feeling the sigh of relief against his mouth when Shiro bounces free. Keith exhales shakily, running his hand along the underside of Shiro’s cock.

“ _ Holy shit _ .” He murmurs, breaking the kiss to blink up at Shiro and then direct his attention down to the weight in the palm of his hand. “You’re a fucking wet dream.”

Shiro laughs, long and loud, before pressing fond, warm kisses against Keith’s cheek until he’s being batted away. “You are too, you know. Got legs for days.”

“Shut up.” Keith snorts, and then Shiro is kissing him again and his hands are sliding down to undo the fly of his jeans. Shiro arches up away from him long enough to tug his jeans and underwear down past his hips and Keith whines softly into his mouth when the pressure of his tight jeans is relieved. Shiro reaches under him to squeeze his ass in both hands and Keith loops his legs around his waist, rolling his hips up to feel their cocks slide against one another. They both moan, Shiro’s kisses trailing from his mouth to his jaw as he brings one hand up to wrap around the both of them. 

Keith damn near chokes the first time Shiro’s warm hand strokes their cocks together, his hips twitching up against his will, but the lovebite Shiro leaves against his neck feels like encouragement, so Keith digs his nails into his shoulders and rolls his hips up into Shiro’s firm grip. It feels fucking  _ awesome _ and Keith is pretty sure he says as much aloud because Shiro huffs a laugh into the crook of his neck that turns into something else when Keith reaches up to dig one hand into his hair, his heels pressing into the small of Shiro’s back as he searches for enough leverage to fuck himself into Shiro’s hand. His whole fucking brain blanks out when Shiro grinds down against him, their breathes getting short and desperate as they get closer to the edge and it takes every inch of willpower for Keith not to come immediately when Shiro presses his free hand over his mouth and reminds him to be quiet. Keith opens his mouth against Shiro’s skin and pulls two of his fingers into his mouth.

Shiro’s hip stutter and he lifts his head up to watch as Keith sucks on his fingers, dragging his tongue up between them, moaning around them, and they both come watching one another like that, until Shiro yanks his hand back to kiss Keith like he’s trying to devour him. His wet fingers grab a fistful of Keith’s hair to pull his head back, changing the angle of the kiss and making Keith pretty helpless to fight it, as if he would. 

They break apart when they both desperately need to breathe, panting heavily while trying not to laugh when they noticed the mess of cum they had both made across Keith’s stomach. 

“Sorry,” Shiro laughs, sounding not sorry at all, as he reaches over Keith to grab a handful of tissues from the box on his bedside table. Keith lets himself be cleaned up, grinning at Shiro and the kisses he follows up with once he’s done a satisfactory job.

They stretch out on the bed, tangling their legs up together while both staring up at the ceiling. Keith folds his arms under his head, squinting when he notices the faint glow of what can only be those lame stars that kids stick to their ceilings, the ones that never really glow in the dark like they’re meant to. He glances over at Shiro from the corner of his eye, smiling to himself.

“I’m staying the night.”

“Yeah, figured as much.” Shiro mumbles, his eyes already closed. 

Keith wakes up first in the morning, overheating because he fell asleep in his jeans and with Shiro pressed up against him. The guy runs hot. Keith shuffles to put some distance between them, shoving his hair out of his face and trying to orientate himself. His bag dumped on the floor and his shirt flung down near it reminds him that last night really did happen. He smiles to himself, sitting up and touching his feet to the carpet. He buries his face in his hands for a moment, then hears Shiro stirring beside him. 

“Mornin’,” Shiro mumbles into his pillow, barely awake, his hair a mess of cowlicks. Keith observes him over his shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I’m gonna go home, need a shower. Someone got his spunk all over me last night.” He teases and he catches the corner of Shiro’s grin and the crinkling around the outer corner of his eye.

“I said sorry.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t believe you for a second, Takashi.” Shiro’s grin gets bigger and Keith twists around so that he can kiss what is visible of his mouth. “I live in the trailer park across town. Stop makin’ me always come to yours.”

“Mhm, got it, cowboy.”

“Fuck off.”

-

Keith squeezes the trigger of his air rifle and the can makes a faint  _ ting _ when it’s hit and flies off of the porch railing like the three before it. He rocks back in the sun-faded fold out chair and rolls his shoulder before he takes aim again, and the fifth can goes down just as easily as the last.

“Pretty sure it’s cheating if you’re sitting that close to ‘em.”

“Can’t cheat if it’s not a competition.” Keith snorts as he sets the rifle across his lap and turns to cross his arms on the porch railing, meeting Shiro as he ambles up and kisses the tip of Keith’s nose. “You’re lame.”

“You’re red.” Shiro counters, kissing Keith properly but not for nearly long enough. “Is this the plan for the day then?”

“Kissing or shooting?” Keith asks as he rests his chin in his hand, propped up enough to be eye level with Shiro.

“Both, I guess.” 

“Gonna need more targets, then.” Keith says, leaning back into his seat and Shiro steps up onto the sagging porch, letting himself into the trailer to grab a couple of cans of beer, cold this time so that they’re a little more drinkable. Keith kicks his feet up onto the railing and catches the can Shiro tosses to him.

They drink and chat in the easy way they’ve had since the beginning, falling deep into a pattern where they see each other every day even if they don’t have anything to do. Watching the saturday morning cartoons, hanging out on the roof of Shiro’s house, making out and getting off whenever they get the chance. It’s not the worst way to spend a summer, even if it’s in a tiny town where everyone knows your business, where everyone has noticed that wherever Shiro The Football Star is, Keith is bound to be there, too. Neither of them care enough to listen to the whispers on the streets or acknowledge the weird looks they get while waiting in line for a movie. Shiro keeps his arm casually slung around Keith’s shoulders and Keith smiles a whole lot more than he usually does.

They both down two beers and deem that enough targets to fuck around with. They head down to the very back of the trailer park where the grass is long and half dead from car parts and other junk sitting on it for too long. They line the cans up on the stakes of the fence and Keith proves that he’s a crack shot even from a distance, winking at Shiro as he lowers the air rifle and hands it over.

Turns out Shiro’s a crack shot, too, and he winks right back at Keith after taking down the remaining two cans, so Keith grabs the rifle, tosses it aside, and throws his weight into Shiro to knock him down into the scant grass, grabbing at his wrists to pin them down on either side of his head.

“Think you’re pretty impressive, huh?” He has to hold his tongue between his teeth so that he doesn’t laugh, pressing his weight into Shiro’s hands when he tries to get free. “With your fancy shootin’ and all those sports awards.”

Shiro laughs up at Keith, shaking his head which gets the dry grass all caught up in his hair. “Well, you’re impressed, aren’t you?”

Keith narrows his eyes down on Shiro, leaning in until their noses brush together. Shiro’s eyes search his face, crinkled at the corners, a sign that he’s smiling like an idiot even if Keith can’t see the smile itself. He stays quiet, just considering him, and when Shiro wriggles a hand free Keith doesn’t stop him.

“Keith?” He murmurs, running his fingers through Keith’s hair to stop it from tickling his face.

“You’re so cool.” Keith says, his eyes widening as he catches up with himself and realizes what he’s blurted. When he tries to pull away, Shiro keeps him where he is, dragging his thumb slowly along his high cheekbone. Keith refuses to squirm.

“So are you.” Shiro says softly, “I really like you. You’re amazing.”

“Shut up.” Keith huffs but he can’t move his gaze an inch. “I like you, too.”

-

Shiro borrows his dad’s car one night nearing the end of summer, and he and Keith drive up to a lookout on the outskirts where they can see the entirety of their tiny little town, which from a distance doesn’t look so bad. 

The sun’s been down for a couple of hours, the dry heat not so stifling as they both stretch out on the hood of Shiro’s car, Keith’s foot between Shiro’s knees and Shiro’s arm around his shoulders. They share a bottle of coke rather than beer since Shiro has to drive and Keith’s eyes keep drifting upwards to the stars as if he stands a chance at counting them all. Shiro’s fingers brush the top of his ear as he tucks his hair back from his face and Keith flinches slightly at the touch, startled out of his own head.

“Sorry.” Shiro blinks over at him and Keith shakes his head a little, “where’ve you been, space cadet?”

“I was just thinking.” Keith says as he tips his head to rest on Shiro’s shoulder. He picks at the label on the bottle of coke, peeling the edges away.

“Mhm. ‘Bout what?” Shiro asks, speaking into Keith’s hair where his hand rested as well, smoothing out the unruly strands.

“Well. You’re graduating this year, right?”

“Yeah, this time next year I won’t be a high schooler anymore.” Keith nods his head before pressing further into Shiro, nuzzling into his neck before he seems to catch himself and he sits up, drawing his knees up to cross his arms atop them. 

“What’re you gonna do after high school?”

“I’m hoping to get a sports scholarship or something so I can go to college,” Shiro replies as he sits up as well, bracing himself on his hands. He tips his head to one side as he considers Keith next to him. “I’m not sure where yet, maybe I’ll go back to Cali.”

“Right, yeah. That makes sense, get the fuck outta dodge as soon as possible.” Keith nods to himself, staring ahead without really focusing on anything in front of him. “I’m gonna be jealous when I see you go. I can’t wait to get outta here. If I thought I could manage it on my own, I’d have already left. It’s not like I’m any good in school, anyway. That’s not how I  _ learn _ , you know? Tests and takin’ notes. My grades are shit, I’m surprised I haven’t been held back a year. I’m better when I’m getting my hands dirty-”

“Keith.” Shiro cuts in, and Keith blinks widely a couple of times and realizes that he’s been rambling. He huffs a breath out through his nose and looks away, but it’s not long after that Shiro takes him by the chin and makes him look at him. Keith refuses to chicken out, holding his gaze even though he’s pretty sure he’s red in the face. Shiro smiles at him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You could always come with me.”

Keith stares for a moment, his brain blanking out the same way it does when Shiro makes him come. And then his words catch up with him and Keith sits up. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Why not, right?” Shiro’s smile widens as he shrugs one shoulder. “Fuck this place. You’re way bigger than it, you know. You can get your GED wherever we end up and figure out the rest from there.”

“How the fuck are we gonna live?” Keith laughs, shaking his head. This is absurd and the best offer he’s ever heard.

“We’ve got a year to figure it out. Don’t worry about it right now, cowboy.” Shiro laughs with him and when Keith wraps his arms around his neck, Shiro squeezes him close, dragging him into his lap.

“Shut up. Don’t call me that.” Keith murmurs into the curve of his neck, biting the skin lightly. He feels Shiro sigh against his ear and burrows in closer to him, ignoring the fact that it’s hot and cuddling like this is unsustainable. “I really really like you.”

“I really really like you, too.” Shiro kisses along Keith’s crown until he coaxes his head up so that he can kiss his mouth, taking his time to feed Keith languid, warm kisses and when he withdraws it’s not by much. “So. California?” 

“Yeah. California.” Keith grins, rubbing their noses together in a way that Shiro usually does and Keith usually calls him a loser for doing it. “Let’s go to fucking California.”

**Author's Note:**

> HEY I went back and edited! The original was a four-hour streak of inspiration, so it had some weird, clunky bits that have now been removed to make for a smoother read. I hope you enjoyed it!  
> [inspired by and titled after this song!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Le2KKBuL4s)
> 
> Kudos, comment, let me know what you think! I had lots of fun writing this, so I hope you had fun reading it.  
> [(tumblr)](http://stickywrites.tumblr.com/)  
> [(also if u feel like tipping me click here)](http://ko-fi.com/stickywrites)
> 
> Love you guys!! :**


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